Trees
by james graves
Summary: "Would you like to come with me, Miss Hal? There will be no dogs that chase you up trees, I promise." Or: John Wick finds Hal Potter up a tree. First words soulmate AU. Fem!Harry. Platonic soulmates.
1. Trees

**TREES** **, by James.**

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 **Warning:**

Implications of abuse.

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 **Disclaimer:**

I do not own anything you recognize.

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Hal is four and being chased by one of Aunt Marge's dogs. She scrambles six branches up a tree, hands catching on rough bark, and her breath comes out heavy. The dog growls at the base, claws scratching the bark as it jumps up.

"Please leave," she pleads quietly to the dog, too quiet to be heard, and that's when she notices something move ahead of her. Her breath catches and she stills, biting the fabric of her sleeve to muffle any noises.

The dog turns to growl at the obscured movement, and she hugs her knees tightly to her chest.

"Kid?" a voice calls, slow and deep. "Is this your dog?" The figure comes into view. It's a man, tall, with his palms held out for her to see, but she doesn't know why.

She recognises the words. They're written on her wrist in a dark scrawl, and she pulls her sleeve further down at the thought.

Aunt Petunia tells Dudley that his words will be from his soulmate, who will love him and care for him and never hurt him.

Aunt Petunia tells her that her soulmate will be disappointed, and angry.

While Hal is thinking, Aunt Marge's dog charges for the man, but the barks turn to whines when the man's own, considerably larger dog comes forward, chest rumbling with a low growl. Aunt Marge's dog runs back to the house, tail between his legs, but the man keeps his eyes on her.

"Are you okay?" the man asks, and Hal thinks of Aunt Petunia, telling Dudley to not talk to strangers, so she doesn't say anything.

"Do you think you can come down? I don't want you to get hurt," he says, and she remembers what happens when she disobeys Vernon, and so she trembles as she climbs down, palms scratched raw by the time she reaches the bottom.

"There we go," the man encourages, and he squats in front of her. She doesn't think he looks angry, but sometimes Vernon tries to trick her, tells her she can eat with them when he really makes her watch Dudley refuse to eat his veg and they throw it away, so she stays quiet.

"Do you live here?" he asks, gesturing to Vernon and Petunia's house, and Hal doesn't know what he wants, but she doesn't want him to get angry, so she nods jerkily. The lights in the front room are on, and she can see Aunt Petunia laughing through the window, and Uncle Vernon's face is blotchy and red. Aunt Marge has her dog held tightly under one arm, and Hal looks away quickly.

Something in the man's expression changes, and his brows furrow. "Do they know you're out here?" he asks.

After a moment, Hal nods again.

The man looks angry suddenly, and Hal's breath hitches loudly. His eyes turn back to her, and he tries to soften his frown. "What's your name?"

She doesn't know which name he wants - the teachers at school call her Hal, or Potter, but Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia call her 'girl' and 'freak'. Except Uncle Vernon would be angry if she tried to tell him to call her Hal, and so she says, "Freak," voice trembling. She hopes desperately that's what the man wants, and flinches when the man looks extraordinarily angry again.

"What else are you called?" he asks, voice stilted.

"Girl?" she tries, but he doesn't look happy, and she flinches back again. "Hal?" she says instead. "Potter?"

The man looks calmer, but also sad. "Hal Potter?" he checks, and she nods jerkily, wisps of hair falling past her glasses. She's breathing heavily now, and presses her sleeve against her mouth.

"Could you come closer please, Miss Hal?" the man asks, and Hal knows Vernon never says 'please' when he tells her to do things, but the man might be trying to trick her again.

She shuffles forward slowly, keeping her eyes on the man's dog, but it is sat calmly now, watching her curiously.

"Can you tell me who gave you that bruise?" the man tries, gesturing to her face, and she flinches back at the sudden movement. He looks apologetic, and moves his hand away.

Vernon tells her to never tell anybody about the bruises and burns he and Aunt Petunia give her, says she's a freak who deserves them, so she doesn't say anything.

"Was it them?" he asks, nodding over to the window, and she flushes. "Right," the man mutters, seemingly to himself, and he glances down at his dog before turning to her. "Would you like to come with me, Miss Hal? There will be no dogs that chase you up trees, I promise," he bargains.

Hal thinks that sounds nice.

"It's because I'm bad," she says instead, voice small, and the man looks sad, now.

"I don't think you're bad," he says quietly to her, and then, "Do you know what your mark means, Miss Hal?"

She shakes her head, because she doesn't know what he expects her to say.

"It means we are good for each other," he says slowly. "It means I won't ever hurt you. It means I'll protect you."

"Aunt Petunia says my soulmate hates me," she mentions quietly.

"I don't hate you," he says deeply. "I want to take care of you. I want you to be safe."

Hal frowns, and hugs herself tighter. "But Aunt Petunia…" she trails.

"Aunt Petunia has never met me," he says, meeting her eyes. "I want you to be cared for," he repeats, "and happy."

"With you?" Hal tries, because that seems to be what he wants.

"Yes," he says, looking relieved. "I want you to come with me, so I can make sure you're happy."

"Why?" she asks, confused.

He's quiet for a moment. "Because you deserve it."

Hal looks back to Number 4, Privet Drive, to Aunt Petunia smiling and Uncle Vernon chortling with a drink in hand, Aunt Marge speaking loudly and ruffling Dudley's hair, and thinks that she doesn't _fit_.

Maybe she'll fit with the man.

"Okay," she whispers, and the man smiles at her.

"Good," he says, and stands straight. He towers over her now, and holds out a hand for her to take.

Aunt Petunia holds Dudley's hand when they're outside, but she doesn't like to touch Hal, had slapped her away the one time she'd tried.

This man wants to hold her hand, though, and so Hal puts her smaller one in his. He encloses it gently and grins down at her, before leading her away.

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon don't even notice.


	2. Socks

**SOCKS , by James.**

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 **Warning:**

Implications of abuse and self-harm.

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 **Disclaimer:**

I do not own anything you recognize.

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Hal lives in John's house, now. It's much prettier than Aunt Petunia's, she thinks, and she has a room decorated in blues and pinks and yellows. She has a bed, too, with soft covers that don't scratch at her skin and a duvet thick enough that she doesn't get cold in the night.

She wakes up to find John asleep in the chair across the room, sometimes. He slumps heavily and snores a little, but she doesn't mind. She just pulls the covers back as quietly as she can manage and pulls on thick socks so her feet don't freeze, and strokes Peter's nose lightly. John had let her name his dog, and she feeds him in the mornings when John's still asleep.

Life is nice and quiet and lovely.

"Happy birthday," says John from his chair and he smiles slowly before he opens his arms for her.

She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses his cheek and thinks he's the best person in the world.

"Come on then, we've got ice cream for breakfast and presents to open."

He stands without waiting for her and she thinks she's going to fall but of course she doesn't, because John won't ever let her fall. They're down the stairs soon and he lets her stand on the tops of his feet because the floor is chilled and it makes her just that bit taller, so she can see on top of the worktop if she stretches really far on the tips of her toes.

(Aunt Petunia made her stay outside in snow and rain and blistering wind without socks or shoes but she tries to forget that, because things are better now.)

John brushes her hair through with his fingers absently as he moves about the kitchen with her on his feet, pulling out ice cream from the freezer and too-big spoons from drawers.

"We can go swimming later," he says, nudging her lightly, and she grins up at him because, seriously, he's the _best_.

So she eats her ice cream on the floor by the couch and John sits on the floor, too. Peter lays his heavy head on her lap and she strokes his ears because they're really soft and then John brings in a sack of boxes wrapped in pretty paper. She gets books and comfy socks and fluffy teddy bears and she carefully puts them all next to her, neat and tidy and in order, because this is more than she's ever gotten in her whole life and she doesn't want to make John's house messy.

"Love you," she grins up at him toothily and he kisses her forehead.

"I love you, too," he says and she knows it's true because Uncle Vernon would never let her eat ice cream or sit on his rug or have nice new socks so she doesn't get cold.

Of course, she messes it all up and she should've known that she'd do something bad eventually, just like Aunt Petunia said, and now John is going to hate her-

"Everything is fine. You're not in trouble. They're gone now. No one's going to hurt you."

He's speaking, repeating those words, a constant thrum of sound and she wants to reach out for him but she doesn't, because she's a freak and a monster and she doesn't deserve him.

"Hey, hey, hey. Don't do that."

She's scratching at her arms, she realises, nails picking up blood and leaving behind pink lines in her skin. He's holding her wrists loosely and she wants him to let go, to not touch her, because she's dirty and she's going to hurt him now-

She screams and cries and tries to get away from John but he holds her steady, makes her look him in the eyes.

"I love you," he says slowly, always slowly. "You've done nothing wrong. I'm not going to leave you. I'm not going to hurt you. Everything's going to be fine."

His voice is deep but he's scared, she can tell, and it's because of her.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she can't stop and he holds her close to his chest and strokes her hair back from her face.

"It's okay. You're not in trouble."

"I'm- I'm a freak, you won't want me," she mumbles, remembers Aunt Petunia screaming those things as she makes Dudley's toys walk or turns her shirt orange because she doesn't like brown, has never liked it, but John makes her look at him and he's sad and scared and she hates it.

"You're not a freak, Hal. You're my little girl, and I love you. I'll always want you. I'll always look after you. This doesn't change anything."

She can't do anything right. "I'm sorry," she says again.

"It's not your fault," he says back and kisses her temple.

They sit there for a while - Hal doesn't know how long - just the two of them, and Hal's face is blotchy and red and she holds John's hand tightly in both of hers.

"I'm a freak, aren't I," Hal mutters, voice scratched raw but still certain, still painfully certain in this fact.

"No, Hal. You're different. You're different to me and to Mrs Bowler next door and to Annie at school and to- and to Petunia and Vernon. You're not a freak."

"But no one else does this!" Aunt Petunia had said so, said she was weird and _freakish_ for it.

"That still doesn't make you a freak," he explains plainly. "That just makes you special."

Hal doesn't say anything, but she rubs her eyes roughly and John tuts when he sees they're red and swollen.

"Let's go home," he offers, offers to her everything he has because, even though he saw her being a freak, he wants her.

She can't really remember how they get home, but she has a bath and cleans her face until it's pink and clean because it was sticky with tears. John reads one of her new books to her quietly, the words pretty and smooth, and plaits her hair carefully as they listen to the music she likes. When it's dark, she writes in her new notebook in her new sparkly pens that she turned six today and that John says she's not a freak, she's different and special, and that it has to be true because John's always right.


	3. Tea

**TEA , by James.**

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 **Disclaimer:**

I do not own anything you recognise.

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Hal is still six when John finds a tutor for her- _magic_ , a scarred man with patchworked jumpers called Remus Lupin who teaches her how to play Quidditch in the back garden and the spell to fix her glasses when she falls over.

She turns John's cup of coffee into a tortoise when she's seven and has finished _'Intermediate Transfiguration'_ for the second time. John chases her around the house, only Hal has been able to teleport ("Apparate," Mr Lupin corrects) for months now and Peter's bounding after them all and it's the best birthday she's ever had.

"Do you want to attend Hogwarts?" Mr Lupin says, sometime in the next week. They're sat in her garden and they can't play Quidditch here, John says so, but they do other things instead, like drink tea or play catch with a Quaffle.

"It seems-" Hal thinks of the right word, settles with, "Slow."

Mr Lupin smiles and swirls his cup. "For you, I think it would be. Of course, you can still enjoy it, if only for a year."

Hal frowns. "I don't want to be away from John and you and Peter for that long."

"Ah, yes," Mr Lupin sighs, looks down to his hands and there's red, crisscrossed lines today. "You don't have to decide right now, Hal."

Hal swings her legs. "I don't think I'd like it much."

"That's okay."

They finish up their tea and Mr Lupin gives her some chocolate. It's a good day.

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John isn't having a good day.

"Mr Wick," Lupin approaches, scratching the backs of his hands.

"Remus," John nods and closes his book because Lupin doesn't tend to speak often.

"Hal is in danger," Lupin says, looks like the words in his mouth make him sick. John feels the different emotions, flits through his thoughts- _Why are you only telling me this now?_

"Go on," he says, clenches his jaw and his fist.

At John's inclination, Lupin pulls up a chair for himself and rather looks like he wants a cup of tea - or whiskey. Either one.

"I was- I was friends with Hal's parents before they died."

Really. "You don't seem too sure about that yourself."

Lupin smiles something sad. "Towards the end, things- It was a war, you must understand. Tensions - _suspicions_ \- were unfortunately high."

John watches him, thinks of James and Lily Potter's files. "I read that they died in a car accident." No mentions of a war.

"No, no." Lupin shakes his head, looks disappointed. "James and Lily were active in our cause - that is, protecting the rights of Muggles and wizards of Muggle heritage. However, a prophecy was foretold, detailing how a child would be born to a couple who thrice-defied the Dark Lord Voldemort that could defeat him."

"Hal." The word comes out sick.

"Two fit the requirement. Frank and Alice Longbottom were due with a baby boy, Neville, and, of course, Hal."

In this moment, Lupin looks so very old, weathered by it all.

"We didn't know who Voldemort would choose," he starts, doesn't look him in the eyes. "The Potters and Longbottoms both went into hiding. At this time, I was working for the Order and not home often. It roused suspicions. I had a- falling out, with Sirius Black. He was James' best friend.

"You see, there is a powerful charm called the Fidelius Charm. It means only those you disclose a location to - Secret Keepers - can see it and tell others the location. I'm not sure who Frank and Alice picked as theirs, but James and Lily went with Sirius."

John stays quiet through this, until, "They were found."

And Lupin looks thoroughly _ruined_. "Yes," he manages. His sentences are stilted, voice scratchy. "I- I wasn't there. Voldemort found them. Lily and James died. Hal didn't. I think they protected her, somehow, because Voldemort hasn't been seen since."

"You believe Sirius gave them up?"

"The location has to be given willingly," is all Lupin says.

"And are you sure Sirius was the Secret Keeper?"

Lupin sags in the chair. "James and Lily trusted him the most."

"Do you think he would have given them up?" Because it doesn't sound like it, not truly.

"I-" Lupin shakes his head. "I believed he was innocent, but Dumbledore was sure."

"Dumbledore?"

"He was the head of the Order."

Ah.

John decides to leave it for the moment, figures this isn't the issue for the moment. "You thought Hal was in danger?"

"Yes, yes." Lupin blinks and seems to forget where he is.

"Do you think Sirius is a threat to Hal?"

Lupin looks down to his hands. "He loved her," he says quietly. "Loved her like a daughter. I- I don't know."

"The Sirius you knew wouldn't have," reasons John. He thinks of the little girl just upstairs that doesn't know that her parents were murdered.

"It's not a concern at the moment." Lupin straightens and looks him in the eyes. "Sirius is in Azkaban, the Wizarding prison. He won't be getting out. There are other Death Eaters, though; ones that paid their way out of Azkaban and up into high positions in the Ministry."

John frowns. "Can you get me some names?"

"Yes, yes." Lupin begins scratching away at a notebook from his pocket, the letters sharp and quick.

"Is there a way I can talk to Sirius Black?"

Lupin hesitates in his writing, looks very much like he wants to say no, but, "There might be."

"Thank you."

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John walks just behind an Auror, holding an umbrella against the rain on that little boat. Azkaban is a daunting building, alright. He doesn't focus on it much beyond noting down potential exits, instead thinks of Sirius Black and all that he's read. Insane, they say. Dangerous and deadly. A murderer.

Maybe.

There's six Aurors with him, total. He'll have to deal with them. Later, though, not at the moment.

They escort him upwards, past incoherent screaming and banging against bars. The prisoners certainly _seem_ insane, and he wonders how much of that can be attributed to the Dementors he knows guard this place.

"There he is," spits an Auror and John raises an eyebrow at the tone.

"I'd like some time alone with him. If you don't mind," John tacks on, makes it seem more of a request than it is.

The Aurors share looks. "Black won't be out of his cell," one reasons.

John doesn't watch them leave. He walks further down the block, notes other supposed-murderers screaming or shaking or rocking in their cells, until he finds his man.

"Sirius Black," he says slowly. "My name is John Wick."

"Hello," Black returns, voice gravelly. He looks John up and down, eyes large in their sockets, and John feels terribly naked, just in that moment.

Black continues, "You have a paper," but he doesn't step any closer to the bars.

"Yes," is all John says. "It's of your arrest."

"Of course." Black's clothes hang off him, his bones sharp.

"I have a drink for you." John approaches him, slides the bottle through the bars.

Black was a smart man, before. John watches him weigh the chance that it's poison and choose to drink it anyway, and thinks he doesn't seem insane.

Well, he'll find out soon enough.

"Veritaserum," grins Black. "How did a Muggle get his hands on this?"

John wonders, briefly, how Black knows he's not a wizard, how he recognises the alleged tastelessness of Veritaserum, but decides to leave it because this isn't what he came for. Instead, he says, "You're the reason Lily and James Potter are dead," and Black jolts.

"I won't deny it," he says slowly, almost mournfully.

"But you didn't sell them out."

John doesn't ask this, says it like it's as true as his name.

"Never," Black whispers, looks horrified at the thought.

"The Potters were under Fidelius. People say you were the Secret Keeper."

"I was," says Black, "And then I wasn't."

"You switched."

Black says nothing.

"With who?"

He looks alive, then, just for a moment. "Peter Pettigrew."

"Oh."

John tries to make sense of it all.

"Was he a Death Eater?"

"Yes," Black croaks. "A spy. I tried to kill him."

"And the Muggles?"

"Peter fired the Blasting spell at the street, cut off his finger and ran, the coward."

"You didn't follow?" frowns John.

"And go where?" Black almost laughs. "James was dead. Peter had killed him. Remus hated me for it."

John leaves 'Remus' for the moment. "What about Hal?" he asks stiffly. "You were her Godfather," _and she went to the fucking Dursleys._

Black's eyes widen. "She's dead, she's dead, she's dead." He shakes and rocks and John pictures him with his hands around Hal's neck. "Dumbledore said she's dead."

 _Dumbledore._

"You didn't see her body." It's not a question.

Black's eyes are wide and frightened and when he shakes his head, his whole body moves with it. "Dumbledore was there before- before I could- And I knew Peter had done it, was the spy, so I ran and- James is dead, Lily is dead, Hal is dead." He's sobbing, looking at his hands like they're dripping blood.

John watches this man fall apart in front of him and, "Fuck," he breathes, before gathering himself. "Hal's alive. She's alive. She lives with me."

Black's knees give way and he crumbles to the floor. He doesn't cry, not quite, but it's a close thing.

"Why-" Black can't finish.

"I'll figure it out," John says lowly, a promise if nothing else. "I'm going to get you a trial."

Black stays quiet, shoulders shuddering with his every breath, but he keeps his eyes on John.

John knows Black is powerful, for all his mind is shredded, knows that he'd split John down the middle if he had his wand, so he tries to figure where he stands.

"You keep her safe," says Black, and he doesn't need to threaten, he knows John's name and his face and will tear him in two if anything happens to Hal, John can see that.

So he says, "I will," because like hell he'd let anyone hurt Hal.

Black nods to himself, rocks a little, and asks, "What do you do?" like he knows the answer.

"I kill people." There's no point in lying, not here, and Black's eyes are sharp as they look him up and down.

Black doesn't say anything for a moment, until, "There are people in here who will want Hal's head, one day. Everyone on this floor and the one below. It's maximum security. They're dangerous, deadly. Murderers."

And it's an invitation as much as anything he's heard. John almost smiles.

"People scream here all the time. The Aurors won't question it." Black tilts his head a bit, says, "Make it hurt," and grins.


End file.
